


The Hard Part Of A Miracle

by mvernet



Series: Blair's Poetry Journal [5]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angry Blair, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e22 Night Shift, Jim Gets A Clue, M/M, Part five, Poetry, Poetry in a Fic, Potty Mouth Blair, Sentinel Bingo 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13762611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: Blair keeps a journal of poems he never meant anyone to read. He accidentally gives it to Jim while sharing the copious amount of strictly scientific field notes he’s written on his favorite subject his Sentinel. Takes place after “Night Shift.”Five poems written by Blair Sandburg.Sentinel Bingo 2018Slash CardFive Prompts, Five Poems, Five PartsTrapped in a dream, Warriors, Slavery, The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg, SecretSeries: Blair’s Poetry Journal, Part Five





	The Hard Part Of A Miracle

Part Five

The Hard Part Of A Miracle

Jim closed the notebook and spread out on the couch. He rested it on his chest and held it gently with one hand. The other hand pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and let it fall haphazardly across his body. He held on to a soft textured corner and rubbed it between his fingers, not really aware he was doing so. He was preoccupied with his thoughts.

_It’s true, Chief. I’m in love with you. I want you. Your silky hair, your big blue eyes. That smile. Those lips. Can’t think about the lips. Those lips parting, I guide your head to my dick, my fingers deep in those curls. Damn!_

Jim sat up abruptly, Blair’s Journal fell to the floor. 

_Whoa. I almost got off on the most sensuous thoughts I’ve had in years. I have to get himself under control. I don’t really know how Blair feels. Poems are dreams, fantasies. He might have been playing with words. It’s not like he was going to publish this journal. Or let anyone read it. Oh! Shit! I did it again! Twice in as many days. He’s going to go ballistic. If he finds out. Shit!_

Jim reached down and grabbed for the journal. A Wonderburger napkin with a smudge of aged mustard over the “o” fluttered out. Jim tossed the notebook back on the pile like it was burning his fingers. He picked up the napkin and was going to toss it when he saw Blair’s scrawl decorating the other side.

_Another poem? He must have written this while waiting in the truck some time. Recently too or he would have copied it in his book. Damn. I can’t help myself. I have to read it._

Secret

I keep a secret in a tiny shell  
Tucked away in its spiral chambers.  
The shell is in a black velvet box  
Tied with a gold ribbon from a fancy gift.

The black velvet box is in an old pocket  
Hidden among loose change and buttons  
The pocket is in an old musty jacket  
One that even the thrift stores don’t want.

The jacket is hidden deep in my closet.  
So far in the dark it almost disappears  
The closet is locked inside my room  
Only a bold thief could find it there.

My room is found under the stairs  
In an airy, old loft apartment I share  
The space is open, the ceilings high  
It can fit many secrets within its walls.

Someday the urge to wander will call  
More likely I will be asked to leave  
I’ll pack the things stashed in my room  
And turn my attention to the dark closet.

I’ll sift through years of accumulation  
Asking myself why I have kept it all  
I’ll reach in the back and find the old jacket  
Shake my head at its forlorn appearance.

I’ll empty the pockets and find the box  
Tied up with gold ribbon from an old gift  
Untie it and wonder what I was thinking  
All those years ago when I buried it so.

I’ll open the box and take out the shell  
Pretty and dainty and dust free still  
The secret inside will draw my eye  
And gently I’ll pull it into the day.

When I recall my dearest hope  
Tears will fill my defeated eyes  
The secret will crumble to dirt in my hand  
The secret love that was never returned.

 

Jim carefully placed the napkin back into the notebook. He patted the book fondly then wiped his eyes.

_Chief, oh, Blair. You’re in love with me.The pain you must be in just living here. This can’t go on. It’s tearing us apart I see that now. Every sharp word I use. Every disparaging remark is an arrow to your heart. You must have a whole quiver of arrows there shot by me and I have deadly aim don’t I?_

The door to Blair’s room slowly opened and a yawning, scratching, wild haired Blair exited, stumbling his way to the kitchen. He stopped short when he saw Jim wide awake on the couch.

“Hey, Jim. Can’t sleep, buddy? Your eyes are all red. What’s wrong, Jim?”

“Chief, I… well. These notebooks…”

Blair grunted his way to the couch. He waved at the pile. “Aw, Jim. You’ve been reading all this time? Did my notes upset you? I woulda thought they’d act more like a sedative Blair tried to smile at Jim as he picked up the top book to see what had him so fascinated he couldn’t sleep. Blair realized he had his poetry journal in his hand. Stunned, his eyes opened wide.

“No way. No way, man. You didn’t. Not after yesterday. Tell me you didn’t read this!”

Jim suddenly found the three year old wine stain on his floor very interesting. He cleared his throat and folded his hands. He had no idea how to tell Blair what he had discovered by reading his private thoughts.

“Chief, I only read a few...”

Further conversation was halted by a flying journal heading Jim’s way. He ducked instintively as the projectile hit the window behind him with a dull thud.

Blair stood before Jim breathing hard, fists clenched and red faced. “I can’t believe you!” he yelled. “Talk about betrayal of trust, but how can either of us betray something that never existed? You’ve never trusted me. You’ve always treated me like an irritating fool you had to suffer not so gladly. You don’t respect me or my privacy because you think I’m nothing but a clown. You’ve never thought of me as a trustworthy man. A man who would risk his life for you, a man who...”

“Chief, I’m sorry.” Jim stood, then reached out to his Guide wanting nothing more than to take him in his arms, calm him down and tell him he loved him. Blair spun around hands in the air. “I am a fool for trusting _you_! You _were_ my hero, Jim. Your honesty, your integrity, your dedication. I had you on a pedestal so high even _you_ couldn’t see the ground. Fuck you, Ellison. I am out of here. Go find someone else to fuck over!”

Even with ears that could hear a thousand miles, Jim couldn’t believe what he was now hearing. “Blair! No, Blair, wait, listen.” The french doors to Blair’s room were slammed rattling the glass. The snick of the lock set Jim to pacing. He gave Blair a few minutes to get himself together, but refused to let this go. His patience gave out quickly

“Blair! Open the door. Please. Yeah, I read a few of your poems, before I realized I was invading your privacy. I’m sorry for being such a dolt, but I can’t be sorry I read them. They were beautiful. Gabe told me to listen to your heart and I did. Blair, I love you too. I want this. I want you. I want a life with you. Open the door, Chief.”

Jim placed a hand on the doorknob, then waited. He tried to tune into the precious heartbeat locked behind the doors. Jim looked around wildly. He couldn’t hear Blair’s heart. He couldn’t hear anything coming from the room. But he _could_ detect the aroma of his Guide, tainted with a touch of salty tears and diluted by cold fresh air.

“Chief? Open the door!” Jim took a few steps backwards then threw all his weight against the door. He burst into the room to find it empty, the emergency exit unlocked. Blair was gone, his laptop, backpack, jacket and Gabe’s scarf were gone and on his rumpled bed was a white noise generator. Jim paused only a moment before running to the couch to pick up his shoes. He grabbed his jacket and sprinted out the door and down three flights into the lobby, then out into the street.

  


The Volvo was still in its spot. Not surprising. Blair could hardly make it to Rainier these days without it breaking down. Not a reliable getaway vehicle. Jim sat on the curb and tied his shoes, while using his senses to find traces of Blair. He stood and struggled into his jacket. He needed to track down his wayward Guide.

_Think about him for a change, Ellison. Where would he walk? He would know I could catch up with him if he was on foot. I don’t see him, smell him or hear him. He phoned a cab? Not enough time. Called a friend? Sandburg’s nothing if not considerate, so unlikely at this time of the night or is it morning?_

His watch glowed four-twenty. A city bus went by. Jim scrunched up his nose at the noxious fumes.

_Buses are running. He knows the bus schedules forwards and backwards. Was he pissed enough to jump on a bus and leave town? Well, let’s see, Detective Smartass. He wanted to trash his dissertation. I violated his trust. Twice. I found out he loves me and he thinks I don’t love him. I humiliated and embarrassed him. Not to mention he was assaulted last night and must be hurting. Maybe not thinking clearly. Add to that the fun fact that he was grieving for Gabe. Yup. Pissed enough to leave town. I doubt he has enough money at this time of the month for airfare. Bus station here I come._

Jim parked his truck and entered the bus terminal. He dialed down his sense of smell and concentrated on finding the heartbeat of the man he loved. He nearly fell to his knees with relief when he heard, then saw Blair cursing out an ATM machine. 

“Limits. Fucking limits,” Blair stamped his foot then flipped Gabe’s scarf out of his way. “I only have three hundred twenty dollars to my name. What the fuck does a huge banking conglomerate care if I empty my account? Shit. I wonder where a crisp hundred will take me. Fucking out of here, anyway.”

Jim crossed his arms as he quietly came up behind Blair.

“Such language, Chief. You kiss Naomi with that mouth?”

Blair reached instinctively for this throat as he spun around. Jim winced at the gesture. His guide had been through so much pain because of him. 

“You can kiss my fucking ass as it heads out of town, Ellison.” Blair stormed away heading for the ticket booth.

_That’s exactly what I will do, honey. Only I’m never letting you go._

“Chief. Hold up. I just want to talk to you for a minute. Please? Then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Blair froze at those words. He slowly nodded and pointed to a waiting area with wooden benches. The terminal was mostly empty. The only other passengers waiting were an obnoxious teenage boy listening to a DVD player through his headphones and his clueless grandmother who spoke loudly to him and was ignored.

Blair took a seat in a somewhat private corner and dumped his backpack and a small duffle bag on the floor. “So talk,” he said testily. Jim sat down beside him. Turning towards Blair. He took his hands in his own. Blair stiffened. “What the…”

“Please, Blair. I… I’m not good with words. I’ll never be a poet. But I listened to your heart like Gabe said to do and my heart gave me this answer. Jim cleared his throat and dropped awkwardly to one knee.

I need you.  
I’m fear driven and anal retentive and…  
I want you.  
I’m jackbooted and hardheaded and…  
I honor you.  
I’m repressed and infuriating and…  
I cherish you.  
I’m possessive and protective and…  
I love you, Blair Sandburg.

“It doesn’t rhyme. It has no rhythm. It doesn’t paint pretty pictures. It doesn't follow the rules. But it's all yours.

Blair said nothing. He stood and helped Jim to his feet. He shook his curls and pressed himself against his Sentinel. The Sentinel wrapped his arms around his Guide. Blair whispered, knowing Jim could hear every word. “You know the hard part of a miracle is making it look like an accident. Thank you for listening to my heart. Thank you for my miracle.”


End file.
